Forbidden Empire
by Nozomi
Summary: (KenxOmi, AyaxYohji) On an excavation project in the Amazon rainforest, Ken Hidaka and Yohji Kudou find themselves wrapped up in a bit of age-old magic and mystery that could cost them more than their lives. *Chapter 4 UP!*
1. Prologue

Title: Forbidden Empire - Prologue/Teaser  
  
Series: Weiss Kreuz  
  
Author: Nozomi  
  
E-mail: tasuchiri @ yahoo.com, empressminako @ yahoo.com  
  
Pairings: future KenxOmi/AyaxYohji  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Category: AU, Fantasty, Drama, Romance  
  
Warnings: violence, cussing, future shounen ai  
  
Archive: FanFiction.net, Isle of View (http://www.geocities.com/empressminako)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, and I seriously doubt you do. All's fine then? ^.^  
  
-----  
  
She ran, eyes wide and almost unseeing in their terror, but she made sure to make as little noise as possible, as was her people's instincts. The broad, green leaves of the trees she had grown up with slapped her in the face and arms as she pushed her way through the thick underbrush, the sting of the blows not the only things that caused her eyes to shine with unshed tears.  
  
There were foreigners advancing upon their great city. Barbarian brutes with sharp iron swords in their hands and vile, hungry demons in their cold eyes. They had happened upon the small party, she and Seoman, as the two were out searching for that very special flower that her mother loved so much, the pretty gold-and-sapphire orchid they had discovered only last year, in the deepest part of the forest.  
  
The flowers were all gone, trampled under the heavy, unholy feet of the invaders. To her misfortune, the barbarians had camped just inside the small cove that held the rare flowers, probably attracted by their brightness. They both had walked right into a deathtrap.  
  
Seoman was dead. The outsider demons had thrust their unholy blades through his body, and laughed. Laughed! Laughed at his pain, his suffering- the anguish which no living thing should have to endure, and wouldn't have, if not for these barbarous beings that dared to call themselves human.  
  
The Great City came into view before her, and her feet stilled as if by their own will, eyes widening in shock and horror at what lay just ahead.  
  
Desecration. Everywhere, fire and smoke and the shining of the Sun's rays on the brute's broadswords, as if Inti himself had cast his blessings upon them. A great consensus of clanging and ringing that stung her ears as the weapons swung and parried her people's own spears, but the retaliation was for naught. Her people were no match against the enemy's dark weapons.  
  
She watched as they began to retreat, to run and conceal themselves in the shielding arms of the mother forest. She watched as the houses of her people burned underneath the mocking sounds of the ugly, hating laugher. She watched as the barbarians set fire to the dead, denying them a proper burial, and destroyed everything that she had ever known.  
  
And no voice gave breath to her silent cries as her eyes riveted upon the sight of the great Sun Temple; it alone was untouched by the destruction powers of flame, but with clouds of black, putrid smoke swirling around the mount and obscuring the base- a sacred island raised high above the tainted waters it had emerged from.  
  
-----  
  
"No."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, it's only-"  
  
"I said 'no', Yohji. I'm not doing it."  
  
His blonde friend just looked at him, jade eyes pensive. "But Ken-"  
  
"No 'buts'. There is no way in hell I'm going traipsing around the friggin' rainforest, 'ooh'-ing and 'oh'-ing over some old stuff with you. That's your job."  
  
Yohji Kudou sighed and ran an agitated hand through his flaxen hair as his long-time friend continued.  
  
"I'm a soccer player, Yohji. I don't go for the whole 'Let's go explore an ancient Maya settlement and find out what killed the whole damn community' thing. Apparently, you do, though I haven't quite figured out *why* yet. Why you would willingly separate yourself from women by hundreds of miles to go off searching for some dead guy's son or something is beyond me at the moment," Ken Hidaka ranted, looking worn out. "I mean that in the best way, of course." He offered after a moment of uncomfortable silence, producing a faint smile. His friend had changed so much since the last time he had seen him. Or was it Ken himself who had changed? He wasn't sure at this point.  
  
"Of course," Yohji agreed, sly grin rekindled. "You seem to forget, my friend, of the natives in such backwater countries, however. I wouldn't exactly term it 'hundreds of miles from any women'."  
  
At that, his brown-haired friend huffed a slight laugh, rolling his eyes. "*That* figures. I should have known." He acknowledged, eyes darkening as he watched Yohji light a cigarette. "That really is a disgusting habit, you know."  
  
The blonde shrugged; a smooth, liquid movement that didn't match his casual stance, leaning back against his huge oak desk. "Everyone has one, you know. This just happens to be mine."  
  
He always answered like that, and Ken always let it go. Besides, he was actually more curious about this whole South America outing than he had let on to Yohji earlier.  
  
"So what's this about this time being a special case, and all? Where, exactly, are you going?"  
  
Ken had been surprised when his friend since the first year of high school had announced an interest in going into the archaeological field a year ago. Sure, they had both had a rather avid interest in 'The Ancients'- Ancient Rome, Ancient Greece, Ancient Japan, Ancient China- over the past few years, but actually studying to become an archaeologist? *That* hadn't even occurred to Ken- and it probably never would have, if not for Yohji. The slender blonde had just said it out of the blue one day- that he was going to be an archaeologist. Things had gone pretty smoothly from there; Yohji had worked amazingly hard at it, and in no time at all he had finished his studies- at high class rank, no less- and had gained a position in the college. He had even been off on a few digs already- after only eight months since graduating!  
  
This, though- this was different. From what he'd heard, Ken believed it was quite a find, and the only reason Yohji had gotten to be supervisor of this dig was because, somehow or another, he had convinced the natives to allow them access- something that no one had ever done before. He wasn't sure how Yohji had done it, but from the look in those green eyes when he had mentioned it earlier, maybe he didn't *want* to know.  
  
Another fluid movement of the shoulders from the blonde man. "Oh, somewhere south of here," he answered lightly, playboy smirk flitting across his face as a couple of rather good-looking female students passed by the large windows of his classroom, giggling as he caught their eyes. Then, abruptly, he was serious. "Actually, it's a ruined city about seven hundred and fifty miles northeast of Machu Picchu. The temple is the only building that still stands. The rest was burned to the ground over two thousand years ago by unknown invaders. Now it's deserted and literally overgrown by the surrounding jungle."  
  
"And what do you want me for? You have your pick of plenty of qualified experts who have investigated and researched all kinds of South American pyramids."  
  
"Ah, too true, too true," Yohji agreed, taking another puff from his cigarette and standing up, suddenly brimming with barely confinable energy. The blonde circled around his desk, absently ruffling the papers stacked upon it's surface while gazing at Ken with a smoldering intensity that seemed to course through his whole body. "But you-" he exhaled, gesturing at his brown-haired friend with the hand that held the cigarette and causing the ensuing smoke to curl oddly. "You have always been very, very good at puzzles, my friend, and that's exactly what this is- a puzzle. A puzzle that I doubt even those stick-up-their-ass professors with their ancient texts and modern discoveries would be able to solve without a lot of help from other venues." He chuckled at his own comment and put the still smoldering cigarette out, his long, graceful fingers absently performing a dance with the last of the smoke curling up from the ashtray.  
  
That was true, Ken thought. He *had* always had a special talent for puzzle solving. Mysteries just seemed to unravel themselves when he was around.  
  
A moment of meaningful silence passed between the two, then Ken sighed exasperatedly and flipped his errant bangs out of his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
At this, Yohji smirked, sensing his impending triumph, and waved a careless hand. "Oh, nothing much. Pack the usual; you know, clothes and toothbrush and such. Get in touch with me when you're through, and I'll do the rest. Oh, and one more thing, Ken." The blonde was starting to smile, and that usually meant something very annoying, but the brown-haired youth answered anyway.  
  
"Yes?" A sigh.  
  
"Be sure to pack lots of. mosquito netting." The taller youth suggested meaningfully, then turned back to the papers on his desk and pretended not to notice the growing anxiety on Ken's face, though on the inside he was laughing like hell.  
  
Mosquitoes.  
  
Bugs.  
  
Shit.  
  
*****  
  
Well, prologue's here. So, what did you guys think? I'm sorry, I haven't seen the show yet *sigh*, so they're probably WAY OOC. It's hard to tell just by reading fics, ya know? Um. could anyone help me, comment on it and tell me how they're OOC, so I can maybe edit it? I *really* don't like having way OOC stories, but it won't be so bad if they're only a little. I'm sure almost everyone who writes any type of fic puts the characters OOC in some way, shape or fashion once in awhile.  
  
Ya know, I realize this sort of sounds like the beginning to an Indiana Jones movie. O.o Not that that's. bad, exactly. Just. not what I was going for. And yes, Omi and maybe Aya (whoo!) will show up in this sooner or later. Maybe next chapter. *wink*  
  
Also keep in mind that this is fiction, and probably not even historical; though the Maya did live over two thousand years ago, they didn't live where Yohji describes, and there was no attack that I am aware of. Besides, the people where Yohji and Ken are going aren't exactly what you'd expect. ^.^  
  
Anyway, enough with my rambling. Just to let you know, this is most likely going to be a *weird* story- but, then again, most of mine are. *sweatdrop*  
  
Nozomi 


	2. Chapter 1

Sweltering heat was the first thing that Ken noticed about the rainforest. Then came the noise- everywhere, sounds and screams and chattering that gradually faded into white noise when one's concerns were set elsewhere.  
  
It wasn't as easy as it seemed, though.  
  
KEEYAAAH! KEEYAAAH! YAHA-HAHAHAH!  
  
KeRAW! KeRAW! HOO! HOOHOHOHOO!  
  
The bugs were the worst, he decided, swatting at a mosquito the size of his hand. The blood-sucking insects were accompanied by gnats, flies, and other flying things that the brown-haired youth didn't even want to *look* at, let alone identify. And all of them converged in swirling clouds that followed the small party wherever they went. They'd get a short reprieve every once in awhile, when the cloud would rise above them for no apparent reason, but mostly it was the same thing for hours on end- bugs crawling on him, in him, his ears, nose, mouth. He was infinitely glad when he remembered the netting he had packed and gratefully attached it all along the rim of the hat Yohji had given him earlier.  
  
Ken hadn't realize how unusual this outing really was until they'd actually emerged from the small, 2-passenger aircraft that had brought them to the small airstrip that ran for a little under seven hundred feet- a peculiar addition to the small fishing village surrounding it. There was no big group of archaeologists- just he and Yohji- and the newest addition of their guide, Ernesto, and a small crew of natives who had offered to carry what little instruments the blonde said they needed.  
  
At first, making their tedious way through the Amazon, Yohji had been happy to explain things to his longtime friend- how this wasn't actually a *dig*, per say, but more of a venture to unlock the mysteries of the site they were to spend two whole weeks at. The natives called it "Diabo Blanco", meaning "White Devil", and believed it was cursed. The curse was the reason no archaeologists had been able to dig there- the natives had no want of digging up and possibly angering the fierce spirits of the area, and, in fact, no sane person would stay there for long. Ernesto had been the only person available who would stay with them the whole time.  
  
The blonde had lapsed into uncharacteristic silence then, already feeling the effects of their surroundings; the heat and humidity in the air seemed to suck the moisture right out of them, and each breath was fought for, like breathing through a straw. Before the first hour was out, both Yohji and Ken had finished a liter of the bottled water they had been advised to bring. With all the greenery around- wet leaves in their faces, creepers that seemed to reach up and deliberately try to trip them, sharp-edged plants that cut their hands as they pushed past- Ken would have thought that there would have been water everywhere; but no, the ground beneath their feet was dry and bare except for a covering of dead and decomposing foliage. All the plants absorbed the moisture before it could ever hope to reach the ground.  
  
It wasn't long before Ken's legs began to feel limp from the strain of the heavy pack he carried and the miles they had brought him over, and his lungs begged for air. The small breaks they did have were unsatisfying in more than one way- they were short, came less than not-too-often, and, upon stopping, their feet were almost instantly covered with huge red ants or giant centipedes or other foreign creatures that should *not* have been possible, but made him glad for the boots and long pants that Yohji had instructed him to wear, no matter how hot it may have been.  
  
Beetles really shouldn't be as big as that yellow one had been, Ken decided wearily after one such pause, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from around his weary eyes.  
  
And then it began to rain- and rain, and rain, and rain- and he realized now why it was called the rainforest. Most of the moisture didn't reach to their level, so all their tired bodies would feel was the steady, annoying drip drip drip of small droplets- and then, without warning, they'd enter under a hole in the mostly solid green sky, and it was like someone was pouring buckets of ice cold water down on them from the heavens, dousing them instantly.  
  
A tiring, grueling three hours after they had begun, and the group stumbled wearily into what might have passed as a clearing. Ken's feet, barely lifting off of the ground now, tripped over a sudden rise in the ground- a step. An ancient, eroded step, but a step nonetheless.  
  
He didn't care, though. Even when Yohji let out a strangled gasp and Ken's eyes followed the jade gaze to a stone monument that was so incredible it was awe-inspiring, he didn't care. He didn't care that the temple pyramid had to be over five hundred feet tall, he didn't care about the interesting- looking hieroglyphs fading upon its surface, he didn't care that the clearing was actually grass growing over what looked to be an old stone platform. He didn't even care when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the natives motioning with their hands- a quick, fluid movement across the front of the body that he had figured out was a ward against evil. All he wanted was to collapse in his tent and his pillow- his sodden pillow, but still a comforting thought- and fall into the deep embrace of sleep.  
  
But even that was put on hold, as Ernesto had them both go and collect dry wood for a fire, and after that it took him forever to erect his tent in the zombie-like state he was in, eyes drooping and fingers clumsy. He finally had to ask the help of one of the three whom had accompanied them with their supplies, and, after much gesturing and miming, he had gotten the thought across. Communication across cultures and language barriers. Yippee for him.  
  
The mat and pillow behind the mosquito netting inside the finally-set-up tent looked overly inviting, and he gratefully slipped behind the net and set himself down, falling asleep before his head even hit the pillow- which was probably a good thing, for the wet plop that the connection made against the side of his face would have wrenched anyone from a sleep- induced haze.  
  
-----  
  
Fire.  
  
Her grip on the green vine growing off of the tall tree tightened hatefully, and her eyes narrowed to small slits. There were people in the forest.  
  
Intruders.  
  
Her mouth thinned. He would know about this. He would have to.  
  
And then he'd do something about it.  
  
-----  
  
Ken awoke hours later, much refreshed, to the sound of fire crackling pleasantly and the enticing smell of something delicious cooking. The jumping firelight off of the inside of the navy blue tent was pretty, he thought, and also- the sun had set; it was cooler than before. Lucky him.  
  
It was still damned hot.  
  
The smell of cooking got to him quickly, and he patted his growling stomach, trying to assuage it until he could find something to fill it with. Maybe some of what whatever was cooking, or, if it wasn't ready yet, some crackers from his pack.  
  
Pushing aside the netting and unzipping the tent flaps, he realized just what a Godsend it was, as bugs instantly assaulted him. Ugh. Errant bangs fell into his eyes as he shook his head, trying to shoo the annoying insects away, and he absently flipped the pieces of hair back into their usual place.  
  
He noticed the moon had risen, but something else- something much more prominent- caught his eye soon after that. In the moonlight, with firelight dancing at its base, the great stone pyramid seemed even more majestic than he remembered from his first glance. It almost looked to be constructed of an otherworldly type of shimmering silver- very eerie. and wait, what was that light, at the mount? Some sort of reflection of moonlight, obviously, but off of what?  
  
"Ah, so I see you are awake at last," Ernesto's rich, accented tones brought him back to reality in a rush, and he realized he had been standing, frozen in the doorway of his tent- and letting all the be-damned bugs in. Sigh.  
  
At the words, Yohji's head turned from where he had been staring absently into the fire, and the blonde smiled at his friend, firelight accenting his fine-boned features even more so than usual.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Hidaka. Have a nice nap?" the light, teasing tones didn't quite hide the fact that the jade-eyed youth had not slept all day, even after the workout he had gotten earlier. Ken noticed a stack of their supplies and things over to his right- where the others must have set them before they left; they weren't getting paid enough to stay the night *here*- as he made his way to sit next to Yohji on the jutting rock the blonde perched on- elegant as ever, even when worn out, Ken noted, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of cigarette smoke. He smiled gratefully at Ernesto when the man handed him a tree branch stripped of its bark with something raw on the end, thrusting the end full into the roaring fire. He wanted to make sure the thing was cooked all the way through before he even tried to eat it.  
  
"I have managed to catch us a rabbit," the native man explained of the skinned thing that had been divided between three branches. "Not all of the forest is harmful to everyone."  
  
"You didn't have to, Ernesto," Ken replied, trying not to sound ungrateful, "We have crackers and such to last us."  
  
"Ah, but man cannot live on bread alone, my friends." A misplaced metaphor if he had ever heard one, but the twenty-year-old soccer player refused to comment.  
  
After a moment of contented silence, Ken ventured a question, "So, Yohji, what exactly are we planning on doing tomorrow?"  
  
"Well, like I said, it's not a conventional dig we've set out to do." The blonde glanced at their companion, then turned back to grin at his friend. "We're just gonna look around a bit at first, stuff like that. Maybe go a little deeper into the thing than just the altar area at the mount, you know. This isn't like any type of temple you may have read about before. It wasn't built by any tribe we know and talk about today."  
  
And that was all he would say at that moment, preferring to do the rest of the explaining in broad daylight, when they had all "rested up some". Ken thought Yohji just liked to tease him by feeding him enticing bits and pieces of information instead of the whole thing all at once.  
  
Dinner went along silently, save for the crackling of the flames and the occasional burst of breath as Ken would blow air out of his nose and twitch it reflexively, trying to keep the buzzing little gnats out- awkward, that.  
  
As Ken made a move to rise from his rocky perch after the meal- a meal that was very good, he had to admit- Ernesto suddenly and carefully seized his eyes with his own piercing black gaze. "I would advise against going out on your own tonight, señors." He warned gravely, "The forest can be very dangerous for those inexperienced."  
  
The brown-haired youth nodded, a silent agreement, and made his way back to his tent, casting one last glance at the moonlit pyramid- it was so creepy, so unearthly surreal- before letting the flaps close behind him for the night.  
  
-----  
  
An inhuman shriek of mutual protest- or was that a warning?- startled Ken awake towards the middle of the night; he jerked and sat bolt upright, eyes wide in the suffocating darkness. His breathing was ragged in his ears, and he strained his hearing to catch sound of whatever had wakened him. His heart returned to it's normal pace when none came, but he could not push back the stifling fear that had caught hold of him.  
  
His tense body literally jumped when something scraped against the side of his tent and a shadow fell across the outside, but a soft, reassuring voice reached him soon after.  
  
"Señor, you will want to see this." Ernesto's voice was tense, and Ken wondered if he had heard the same thing.  
  
The night's last sliver of moonlight danced across his features as he poked his head through the flaps. "Yes, Ernesto? What is it?" The man just gestured calmly for them to follow, and Ken noticed Yohji standing just to his right, still clothed in black silk nightclothes and absently swatting at hovering flies, as he reluctantly obeyed. What could be so important that their guide would summon them so late at night?  
  
"I think the old dog thinks he saw a forest spirit or something as ridiculous," Yohji commented, hushed voice carrying a note of humor even as he followed at a leisurely pace.  
  
They were making their way towards Ernesto's tent, Ken noticed at last, eyes blinking almost blindly in the jungle darkness. It was not until they were almost on top of the forest-green tent that the other two saw what the native had been getting at. They both stared at it in silence for a moment, sleepy incomprehension clouding their minds.  
  
There, at almost eye level, were what appeared to be four elongated holes cut into the fabric of the tent. Why would Ernesto do something like that to his own tent?  
  
A sudden, cooling breeze whirled up around them, and the strips between the cuts flapped lazily in it, as Ken abruptly and fearfully realized what the holes *really* were.  
  
Claw marks.  
  
He hadn't realized that he had said that aloud until, next to him, Yohji jerked in surprise, glancing at him, wide green eyes now alert and cleared from the bondage of sleep.  
  
"What?!"  
  
But Ernesto only nodded gravely, eyes intense. "Yes. These are claw marks; those of a jaguar, no less. Now you see why I had advised you not to wander. The spirits are restless tonight."  
  
Ken shoved the urge to comment that the jaguar had come to *them*, not the other way around, and that jaguars were real, living creatures, not dead things, and instead just nodded, words lost to him at the moment. It wouldn't do to mock the old guy's gods, after all; he might leave them here by themselves to fend on their own. Yohji seemed to sense what his friend was thinking as well, for he kept silent as they helped their guide patch up the holes with masking tape, and then left for their separate tents, minds made up to put off thinking about the night's events until it was over.  
  
-----  
  
KOO-WAH! KOO-WAH! WHOO!  
  
SEE-YAW! SEE-YAW! HOOHAWHOO! HA!  
  
He gradually woke to the lovely chorus of the rainforest with an immense headache that pounded insistently in the back of his skull. Oh, the day was beginning so grandly already! What a glorious morning indeed!  
  
Note the sarcasm, people.  
  
Ken groaned and tried to roll over, instead getting impossibly tangled in the netting around his bed. It seemed even louder than yesterday, he thought sleepily. The monkeys were probably taking bets on how long the dumb suburban soccer player and his pals would last.  
  
Finally, he forced his aching body to move, now totally feeling the effects of the long hike yesterday on his prone form and forgetting his throbbing head for the moment. With another loud groan of protest, he shook his arms free of the encompassing net and stood up, stretching like a cat- full body, even down to his toes- and yawning- a jaw-cracking yawn. Ooh, that felt nice. Soothe those aching muscles. It made him feel light-headed.  
  
What time was it, anyway? He couldn't tell much, but from the degree of heat in his sleeping quarters, it was probably only mid-morning. Time to get to work.  
  
Suffocating humidity met him as he ventured outward, spotting Yohji digging carefully through one of the packs. And another thing, something he hadn't noticed in light of the sensory overload he had gone through yesterday- the smells. Overly sweet flowers, tropical rot, natural perfume and the stink of dying things assaulted his nose. He blinked and sneezed violently, trying to clear his suddenly watering eyes with rapid twitches of his eyelids.  
  
Across the clearing, Yohji turned at the rather loud exhalation of breath, grinning when he saw who it was. "You're up early today. What brings you to the land of the living at this hour, Ken?" he teased, and Ken teased right back.  
  
"Me? Look who's talking, Mr. 'I'm-Never-Up-Before-Noon' Kudou. Never though I'd see the day." He shook his head ruefully and went over to rummage in his own pack for a quiet moment, finally revealing a pencil and a handful of paper. "We won't be needing much, right? Just making some observations?" the blonde nodded and, after a short farewell to Ernesto, they left for the temple. The native had offered to cook them breakfast, but they refused, thinking to put it off until they had returned.  
  
There were more steps than there originally seemed, Ken noted, panting as they made their way to the summit. As the two ascended, the tall trees seemed to crowd around them, cutting off all apparent access to the campsite. It was like another place up there, and, when Ken closed his eyes, he could almost believe that the ancient civilization that had come to ruin so long ago was still here, alive and well. He grinned inwardly at that sentiment and continued upwards, Yohji just ahead as the blonde picked the safest path for them both up the cracked and eroded stone steps.  
  
They were both gasping for air by the time they reached the entrance to the sheltered altar room. "Next time. let's take. the elevator." Yohji wheezed, and Ken giggled semi-hysterically (for lack of air to the brain) for a moment as they tried to get their bearings, not to mention their breath, back.  
  
When that was done, they traded relieved glances, then burst into a relaxing laughter that seemed to be swallowed up by the too-green foliage surrounding- almost suffocating- them. It lightened the mood, and helped them to not feel so anxious about going into such a place, though neither of them cared to admit that it gave them an odd, shivery feeling inside.  
  
Inside, away from the harsh glare of the sun through clouds of steamy jungle air, it was cooler- so much so that Ken absently shivered as he looked around. The brown-haired boy was amazed at what he saw- for being even older than the pyramids in Egypt, it looked far beyond what was expected. The design was beautiful and classy, something not as easily seen on the weathered outside. There was an almost perfectly rectangular stone block in the center of the small room that Ken assumed to be the altar to whatever god had been favored here, and elaborate paintings adorned the walls. Small, square holes of about 5 inches long and wide formed minute tunnels leading somewhere no human could possibly go in the temple, and Ken shivered again just looking on them. Something was. weird about this place. Something Ken couldn't quite put his finger on.  
  
Yohji followed him in, leaning casually against the stone altar. "Impressive, isn't it? I told you it wasn't the garden variety." Ken nodded absently, getting that sinking feeling in his stomach, like someone or some*thing* was watching him.  
  
He ran light fingers across the rough surface of the altar, then jerked back convulsively, hissing lowly from the sharp pain. Something had burned against his fingertips. A steady glare at the pad of his pointer finger revealed the single drop of crimson blood that was already welling up. He winced and discreetly wiped it off on his pants, not wanting to worry his blonde friend, who might want him looked at for mysterious jungle diseases or something. No need to worry; it was just a small prick, after all. No harm done.  
  
"Wanna hear the vague but troubling history?" Yohji continued, back turned to Ken as the taller youth studied the inscriptions above the doorway for a moment before turning back to watch his friend's reactions.  
  
"Mm." This place gave off an aura of ancientness, of old things left for new- or of lethal, wizened magic waiting quietly for a last chance to erupt in a final show of immense power. Like a sleeping giant that could be awakened suddenly by a single tentative, misplaced step.  
  
The blonde smirked at how much his friend was immersed in the place, but continued. "Well, apparently there was an ancient civilization here- that much's a given- but it wasn't any we've ever heard of. It's reminiscent of the Mayan culture, but also has it's own uniqueness that's quite peculiar. Also, the Maya didn't live anywhere near here, so it's not probable that this was just a small branch of them. The closest tribal nation were the Inca, but even they didn't gain power until 500 AD, and all signs point that this was a very rich nation that was destroyed over two thousand years ago, in about 100 BC or so. Local legend says that the whole city was inhabited by demons or some such thing. White devils, like the name. *This*." and he gestured grandly around in one sweeping motion that encompassed all, "-this was their great temple, the largest one in about a hundred miles. I know that much, at least. It was to the Sun god, whose name they later shared with the Inca- Inti, I believe. Legend has it that barbarians, wielding weapons of dark magic that the people couldn't fight against, came one day and attacked the unsuspecting city, reducing all but this site to a pile of ash in less than three days. Then-"  
  
A crash from outside interrupted the history lesson, and they both looked, wide-eyed in the sudden adrenaline rush, to the entrance. A pregnant pause, then, "I'll go check that out. You stay here and get to work, hm? I think if you manage to translate those hieroglyphs, we'd learn a lot." Ken nodded and leaned down, eyes already riveted to the picture writing, as the blonde left him, shaking his head ruefully at the intensity of his friend.  
  
Moments passed, and the brown-haired boy gradually became aware of the unnerving silence around him. No monkeys chattering, no birdcalls, no mysterious, unnamed beast grunting as it tried to get a quick lunch of something that didn't want to *be* lunch today- nothing. And he had that feeling- that feeling like someone was watching him, again. The air was hot around him, smothering him, as if he had his face buried in a downy blanket.  
  
Footsteps, behind him; almost silent in their approach, but not quite.  
  
"Yohji?" he winced as his voice cracked, but he couldn't seem to manage it.  
  
A light touch on his shoulder; a girl's denying voice, whispering in his ear.  
  
"Qantaqa." A breathless, murderous, hating, smirking giggle; he whirled and saw nothing.  
  
"Y-.Yohji?" desperate, now.  
  
Footsteps, this time going away from him. He had a sudden urge to follow them, and didn't question it. He dropped his pad of paper and his pencil, letting them fall with muted sounds to the ground, and crept around the altar, listening intently to the footsteps as they left through the door.  
  
Another giggle floated back to him. 'You're in for it now'; it seemed to whisper, to taunt wordlessly. 'He is here.'  
  
Fading. It was fading. He hurried forward, and through the entryway; the sun blinded him, and he blinked in frustration, a million sounds suddenly assaulting his straining ears all at once.  
  
The blindness cleared, and he looked forward, trying to see- or hear- something, anything. Where did she go? What had happened?  
  
A low curse, in a liquid tongue; a black-tipped spear was pointed at his throat.  
  
-----  
  
OK; there. Omi. Next chapter. Mm-hm. ^.^  
  
OOC? C&C?  
  
I got my new book! *dances and goes of to read her new book* The Remnant, yay!  
  
Nozomi 


	3. Chapter 2

*FLASH*  
  
A raging fire, tongues of flame racing out of control.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Screaming, eyes wide; people panicking, running. The dank smell of smoke.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Pounding feet; broad, green leaves slapping against reaching arms.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Words, spoken in a smooth, liquid tongue. Frantic, searching. Where is everyone?  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Flame licking around them; gaining faster than they could run. Trapped.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Ken gasped and stumbled back, breath ragged and heavy, as if he had run a marathon without moving, or only just struggled to the surface of deep water after being under for far too long. Lights swirled in front of his eyes, a plethora of dots and unearthly shades he couldn't identify.  
  
There was something different, he noticed when his eyes finally cleared. Something in the air- or rather, the air itself. It wasn't as clouded with steam as it had been when he'd first entered the shrine, and there was some new, subtle, tantalizing yet acrid scent that teased at the back of his nose- it hadn't been there before, he was almost sure of it. The forest was also different- the pervading quietness was unusual, the noise of the last day and a half cutting off suddenly.  
  
"T'si anh pra isi'ha Intis'hue."  
  
That voice again. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't another of the heady visions he'd just experienced. This one was real- or, in this case, more real. Ken blinked and focused his eyes on the figure- make that *figures*- in front of him. His gaze was instantly drawn to the spear he recalled had been pointed at his throat, - well, it still *was*, actually- and the one holding it. The weapon wasn't all that menacing, but the blackness at the pointed tip unnerved him somewhat; what could it possibly be? His mind ran through a list of possibilities as he looked the small figure up and down, none of which he found very promising.  
  
The youth in front of him, though possessing a rather cheerful-looking face, had a look about him that told Ken that the boy had killed several times in his lifetime, and all with that same half-smile painting his slight features. Blue eyes that were a bit too wide for his face gave the boy an aura of innocence even through the hardened gaze, and longish, tousled golden-blonde hair hung just slightly into those too-wide features. The smooth looking skin of this youth was lightly tanned, but less than Ken himself was, and much lighter than natives of the area- and yet, he seemed to simply *belong* to this place just as much as the shrine behind him did.  
  
The White Devil- for Ken had realized suddenly, as if someone had told him, that this person was what the natives had referred to in their reverent, shivering tones- the White Devil wore pants of a slithery brown material only a shade darker than his skin, and belt and ornaments of shiny blue stone complimented his eyes most wonderfully. The youth looked to be no more than 18 years of age, though he seemed much older, and his chest was bare. As Ken openly stared at this new arrival, he felt the spear inch just slightly back from it's menacing position at his throat, and something disturbingly like fleeting recognition sparked in the youth's blue eyes.  
  
"Hikka d'a t'si im t'si." More of those hauntingly-. familiar?- words fell like rain from only slightly moving lips; to Ken, the tone implied a question, most likely directed at him. He had, however, no direct means to answer what couldn't be understood in the first place.  
  
"Inh pra staja hikka." A new, more clipped, but still masculine tone that seemed to reprimand, and Ken realized that there were others here besides the boy and himself- three, in fact, all with the same inhuman slenderness as the first. The one that had spoken wore the same strange garments as the blonde, but he possessed no jewels, had eyes like violet chips of ice, and his hair was a deep, blood red that was definitely *not* a human color. Next to him stood another male, with lavender-blue hair pulled back close against his head by a bone ring, dangling in a horse-tail behind one ear.  
  
The last stood a bit farther off from the rest, the only female in this group and the only one with a top covering, and the smirk on her face somehow told him that she was the one that had spoken to him in the temple. Her hair, almost black, but also with a strange greenish tint, hung into her eyes but didn't cover the fact that she was young, younger than the rest save the first boy. The smile that graced her features when Ken's eyes fell upon her was cold and hard, and the unbound feral nature in her silver-flecked eyes caused a shiver to dance up his spine.  
  
"Sudhoda'ya." was all she said in her strange, lilting, scornful tone, and the wide blue eyes of the boy with the spear flicked towards her casual form. All in this small group had light skin color; the girl's flesh tones were bordering on pure white.  
  
"A'sa. Pra t'si im t'si." He acknowledged, spear inherently dropping just a bit more and allowing Ken to breathe easily again for the first time since he had run into these people. The boy must have somehow noticed this, for he turned his gaze back to the athlete and smiled wryly. "A'sa. Se." the boy's eyebrows furrowed as he carefully picked out his words, "se. habla. es-. español?"  
  
Ah, finally! A language Ken could at least *try* to understand. He had taken a few Spanish courses in high school, after all, though he didn't remember much. "Si. un poco." He admitted, causing a wide smile to come forth from the other boy.  
  
"Bueno. gracias."  
  
At that, Ken choked. What was the boy thanking him for? It wasn't like he had done anything. And yet, he felt he should remember. something.  
  
"S'kei an'ya!" came a low, guttural exclamation of apparent disgust, and the black-haired girl pushed her way forward, wrenching the spear from the hands of the blonde boy and bringing it back up to where it had begun- tip resting dangerously against Ken's throat. His eyes widened at the violent actions of the small girl, but the soccer player made no sudden movements.  
  
"Qantaqa!" a light but forceful reprimand in that same high, almost husky tone from the blonde; Ken recognized that word from before. Perhaps it was her name? The girl seemed not to hear it.  
  
"Hey, Ken! Don't worry, it was nothing but a pair of stupid monkeys who fell from a tree, is all." The smooth voice of Yohji's cut through the air a split-second before the blonde pushed his way through the overhanging foliage and spotted his friend. ". Ken? What-?"  
  
"Yohji!" he hissed as inconspicuously as possible, some small part of his consciousness only vaguely amazed that his attackers weren't even sparing a glance at his friend. "Stay back!" he cast a meaningful glance towards the psycho girl threatening him with a sharp stick, but his blonde friend only looked at him, confusion shining in his jade eyes.  
  
"Um. Ken? What the hell are you doing?" the older man asked, approaching him and getting what Ken thought to be dangerously close to the quiet one with the blood-red hair. The athlete thought he spotted a shiver run down the violet-eyed youth's spine before the redhead turned and stared directly at Yohji- and yet right through him. The athlete could only watch in shock as Yohji walked even closer, literally rubbing elbows with the other boy before- what the hell?!- walking straight through.  
  
Ken blinked a few times, trying to prove to his brain that that *had* actually happened, and he *had* actually seen that right- when he looked again, there was no one there but Yohji, gazing on him with slightly concerned eyes. Ken noticed with surprise that the air had returned to its usual steaminess, and the loud, encompassing noise of the forest was at its peak. Had he just imagined it all? But. no, it had been so real! He swallowed thickly and glanced, wide-eyed, at Yohji.  
  
"You. you didn't see them?"  
  
The blonde peered incredulously at him over the rim of his black sunglasses. "See who? There's no one here."  
  
"The. the White Devils, Yohji. I saw them. They were standing *right here*." He gestured impatiently in front of himself. His companion MUST have seen them!  
  
"You mean *ghosts*? Aw, you've *got* to be kidding me, Ken." The blonde man ran an agitated hand through his messy hair and sighed. "You don't really *believe* in that stuff, do you?"  
  
The tone of that voice was almost mocking, and it hit the slender athlete like a physical slap in the face. "I am NOT crazy, Yohji. I SAW them! I *know* I did!" he resisted the urge to growl out loud.  
  
"Hey, hey." The blonde waved an easy hand, trying to calm him down somewhat. "Don't get all riled up about it, ok? You might have seen something, sure. There are enough stories floating around to validate ghosts, at least partially, to me. But don't you think it might have been something else?"  
  
"Like what?" he gazed through in suspicion blue-green eyes at his friend.  
  
"Well. let's see; it could have been maybe some type of mirage. Those things happen in the desert all the time, and it's just as hot here."  
  
Point of fact, Ken had to concede him *that* much. "I guess you could be right." He said shortly, still vexed from the blonde's earlier disbelief.  
  
They had spoken to him- or rather, *at* him- though; Ken hadn't ever heard stories about speaking mirages, but he supposed anything was possible. Besides, he didn't need to get into another clashing of wills with Yohji. They were on equal ground here, and Ken knew what he said sounded as crazed as the natives, though he also knew he wasn't crazy.  
  
"Of course." The blonde acknowledged that statement in the usual 'Yohji' way- egotistically, with a self-appreciating smirk lighting his longish face. The blonde casually produced a cigarette from somewhere and lit it, taking a long, relaxing draw before he continued. "And, speaking of me always being right,"- 'As usual', Ken's mind supplied the unspoken, insinuated words that were nearly tangible in the air with a wry inner smirk- "that crash we heard? Just some of the regular animals having fun." He grinned, then that jade gaze flicked downwards, and his brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Ken? What's wrong with your hand?"  
  
Ken jerked, noticing that his friend's gaze was caught by his right hand, which he realized he had been unconsciously rubbing against the side of his leg agitatedly. One finger in particular was a bright red from the rough, dark cloth, and the athlete realized that it was the very same one that had suffered the injury just a few minutes earlier. Odd; it was still bleeding, he noticed as he brought it closer to his face.  
  
Dark red, almost black; darker than he'd ever seen fresh blood before. It was unnatural, somehow. He winced as a sharp pain lanced up his finger and brought it to his mouth without thinking, then quickly jerked it out, eyes widening in shock at his momentary stupidity. What if it was poisoned or something? Maybe he *did* catch some strange jungle disease, and it was just now starting to show the effects.  
  
The salty, metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth as he answered as calmly as he could. "Nothing. I just scraped it on some sharp rock." Well, it wasn't *exactly* a lie; he might have, though the altar hadn't been sharp at all, more rounded than anything. The words still tasted bitter on his tongue.  
  
"Well," Yohji began, taking another draw of his cigarette as he thought for a moment, "it still looks pretty painful. I have a first-aid kit in my pack; let's go get you a Band-Aid or something, hm?" he smirked. "Maybe one with those little dinosaurs or something. You'd like that, right?"  
  
Ken violently pushed down the coil of irritation that was rising in his stomach. Yohji was only teasing, no need to make such a big deal about it. "And I'm sure you have some; you're just that type of person."  
  
"Hey! What's *that* supposed to mean, hot shot?"  
  
The brown-haired youth only chuckled in response.  
  
-----  
  
By the time the two made their twisting way back down the temple steps, their guide had breakfast- or rather, brunch- ready and waiting in the stew pot over the fire. The native man gladly served them steaming bowls of the unidentifiable but still delicious soup, causing Ken to grimace at it and stick his tongue out childishly before giving into his hunger. A hot meal for lunch on a day like this was severely uncomfortable, but their guide seemed to be used to such things  
  
"Ernesto."  
  
"Sì, señor?"  
  
"What-" how to put his question? "How dangerous would finding a black- tipped spear be in here?" Suggestive and not very articulate, but something nonetheless. Unconsciously, he rubbed his now-bandaged finger against his pants.  
  
Their black-haired guide stared unblinkingly at him for a long moment, eyes intense. "Why do you ask? Never mind-" he cut Ken's reply off, "It does not matter." His eyes closed for a brief moment, then fixed on the brown- haired athlete's form once again. "Just a spear in itself is not usual fatal. It could not kill much. However, the rainforest is, as you Americans would say, the 'home office' of natural poisons. The black tip would likely be poison from a local frog or snake."  
  
"That deadly, hm?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"So what's with the sudden interest in primitive-but-effective weapons, Ken?" Yohji piped up, grinning at him from over his bowl of soup. "Did one of your 'ghosts' have one of those as well? Or are you just thinking about auditioning for a spot on 'America's Most Wanted'?"  
  
Ken glowered at him, trying to ignore Ernesto's interested, imploring gaze and just go back to eating. It worked, and the native didn't push him into any verbal chitchat, and Ken didn't offer any.  
  
-----  
  
Running; pounding feet. Flailing arms, reaching out desperately to him as he raced by. Cries, pleas for help. He kept running.  
  
A brightness in his eyes, overwhelming. An intense heat at his back, seeming to urge him onward, faster.  
  
He was drowning in noise and the close press of fallen bodies. Eyes wide yet vacant, devoid of the spark of life.  
  
Dead.  
  
He fumbled for something at his belt even as he sprinted forward, almost dropping it in his haste. A knife, shining with a strange unearthly light. His gripped tightened around it, not wanting to lose this precious item.  
  
Sudden noise, around and behind him. He stilled in an instant, breath harsh, hoping he wouldn't be spotted in the encroaching dark, but already knowing it was too late.  
  
Another noise behind him as he surged forwards once again, something that sounded like a scuffle, though he didn't dare look back.  
  
Forward. Move forward.  
  
The others? Most were around, near him and yet not. The younger would be doing as told.  
  
Instant, intense pain. He gasped and stumbled, hand reaching to his side and trying to block the sudden blood flow.  
  
It hurt. Deeper, too; a spearhead.  
  
Metal. He put his dagger away; he'd need both hands, now.  
  
Feet tripped over themselves; falling.  
  
Rushing flame.  
  
Contact; hard ground. He winced, but did not let go his hold on the wound. Stagger forward.  
  
Rushing, hot flame-  
  
-----  
  
A desperately muffled noise. Ken struggled suddenly upward from the bonds of sleep, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat budded on his brow, running down the side of his face or dripping in his eyes. He reached up and scrubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand, rubbing the sweat from his tired eyes. His finger throbbed dully, but he ignored it.  
  
That dream. it had seemed so real. The emotions, the feelings, the smells- they had all seemed more part of a long-ago memory than merely a dream. He could still vaguely feel a ghost of pain in his left side, though it was fully whole and smooth upon close inspection. Ken could even imagine he still felt the heat of fire upon his back, which had been bare in the dream.  
  
What had wakened him? The brown-haired athlete wracked his memory, finally coming up with one small, dissatisfying answer- a sound, a noise that had been vaguely wrong in this small, cut off place. He didn't remember what it was, but he did know that it had disturbed him.  
  
He sat there for a long moment, hoping that the sound might come again, his breathing slowly returning to normal. However, it seemed Nature was out to taunt him, for soon his ears caught the gentle pitter-patter of rain on his tent, before the sound became an all-out roar, drowning out any repeats of the first noise.  
  
-----  
  
The loud chattering of the forest animals woke him the next morning; without yesterday's headache, it wasn't so unpleasant. He reached up and blindly scrubbed at his closed eyes before sitting up and getting the strangest feeling; like something had happened that he should have remembered, but for some reason didn't.  
  
Ken shrugged it off in a moment, passing it of as adjusting to his surroundings, and went outside, idly swatting at some flies and other hovering bugs as he made his way across the clearing to stare up at the towering temple in front of him. The pain in his finger had faded to a dull ache, but when he looked at it he had the feeling it should have hurt more than it did; the whole pad of his finger, or as much that showed beneath the Band-Aid, was a mottled, light purple color that looked suspiciously like a bruise.  
  
A glance around the small camp told the athlete that Yohji was nowhere to be found; the blonde was probably still asleep. This was more expected than the early-rising blonde he had seen yesterday.  
  
The temple seemed like it was looking at him. Ken shivered and turned away. Whatever had happened up there yesterday- it hadn't been natural.  
  
The boy. Who was he? And why did Ken feel like he knew him? He knew things he shouldn't have known; things he *hadn't* known- until those weird flashes he had experienced.  
  
Idly rubbing his finger, he turned and headed for his pack as he felt his stomach rumble. Time for an early breakfast.  
  
When Yohji finally stumbled out of his tent, it was closer to afternoon than morning, and, although sleeping for so long, the blonde definitely looked the worse for the wear. There were shadows under his eyes- not dark, but just beginning to show- and his hair was messier than it usually was, even in the mornings. He greeted both Ken and Ernesto, however, with his usual fluid-but-jaunty wave of the hand, and that stilled all questions the two might have asked.  
  
-----  
  
The day went by relatively fast, most of it spent examining the temple, and Ken was glad that there were no more 'surprises'.  
  
By the end of the day, the intense heat had drained his body of energy, and he nearly stumbled more than once on the way down to the forest floor. Yohji was in no better shape, and the both of them ate their dinner mechanically, not really tasting it, before literally falling into their respective beds and being pulled into a dreamless slumber.  
  
Ken woke sharply again that night, irritated. It seemed he couldn't even get a decent night's sleep around here. This was the third night in a row!  
  
All his irritation was suddenly and instantly washed away when his nose caught a familiar tingling, back-of-the-nose scent in the air, however; it was the same as when he'd encountered the four people up on the top of the temple. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why.  
  
Why was it so hot? The heat wasn't usually so intense at night.  
  
The athlete felt his stomach sink as his mind came up with one of the violent images from one of his dreams, and he literally jumped towards the flaps of his tent, throwing them open and sprinting outside.  
  
The air was full of that scent, and Ken coughed, trying to keep it out of his lungs. His eyes burned and watered, and he rubbed at them viscously, trying to clear his vision so he could see. When he did, he wasn't so glad of it.  
  
Burning, licking flame.  
  
Fire. 


	4. Chapter 3

The smoke was suffocating. Ken coughed and swiped at his eyes, trying to keep from breathing in too much of the thick fumes. How had the flame spread so much without any of them noticing? And where were Yohji and Ernesto at a time like this? Surely they couldn't sleep right through.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Sapped of their strength, his legs collapse, knees connecting solidly with the ground. The small power still left to his arms is the only thing holding him completely up from the ground, and cloudy smoke swirls around him, a warning of the destructive force not far behind it. A series of choked gasps escape his tightly clenched jaws against his will, hand automatically darting towards the gaping wound in his side, which vehemently protests the strain on his already tired body the only way it knows how.  
  
The effort it takes to push himself back on his feet is too much; he collapses back to his knees almost instantly, the metal in his body sapping all of his energy. There has been no time to remove the weapon, and there won't be for a long time to come.  
  
Now, the smoke is too thick to see through anymore. The fire is gaining; there is not way he can move even the few yards it would take to put himself out of its destructive path. It is nearly upon him, the heat and the flame-  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Ken was almost unaware of his body stumbling forward, or of himself pulling his nightshirt up to cover his nose and mouth, his blue-green eyes unseeing yet pointing out exactly where the fire raged the highest. Something... something was...  
  
Tongues of flame spit savagely at him, and a flying ember grazed the back of his bare hand, brushing against the skin in a burning, searing caress. The brown-haired youth cursed and flung it off immediately, for the moment ignoring the burn it left behind. He could feel it... someone was...  
  
There it was! A low, muted groan of pain, almost drowned out by the roar of the fire. There was someone there!  
  
He had known that, somehow; knew from the beginning that there would be someone.  
  
Ken surged forward, not sure why he did; he somehow knew also that it was neither Yohji or their guide, and, for all he knew, it might just be another one of those 'visions' he'd had earlier. But the fire was too real to be imaginary.  
  
There was a clear path between him and this other person, but it was closing fast. Not even realizing what he was doing, he sprinted through it, pulling out all the speed techniques he used so regularly in his soccer games. The flames seemed to grasp at him, hissing in fury, but he ignored them, gaze darting towards the figure lying in a fetal position in front of him, looking for all the world like it had conceded to death already. From what Ken could see, it was that same boy from before, only somehow looking younger, and with blood now leaking from a wound.  
  
A wound in his side...  
  
The athlete quickly blinked away the sudden images that flashed before his eyes, and leaned down, looking the boy over. "Hey! What are you doing? The fire's coming right towards you! Hey!" but it seemed the fair-haired youth could not hear him, so wrapped up was he in his inner, morbid death musings.  
  
The heat was intense beyond belief, and becoming even worse; a patch of growing flame suddenly seemed to rear up, about to fall upon the small boy like foamy waves upon the beach; Ken didn't think, just scooped the small body into his arms and ran, an all-out sprint. There was no way he was just going to leave him there to die. He needed answers, and he was going to get them, sooner or later.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
The feeling of motion; he groaned and tried to curl further within himself. His side burned, and the sudden movement was jolting his whole body. The fires were crackling in his ears, muted by the warm body of the person who held him in their grasp.  
  
Someone had saved him. Not a barbarian, they wouldn't do such a thing, they were too terrified of him and the others; maybe one of his own?  
  
Qantaqa... and Seoman... were they...  
  
One final, jerking movement, then the sensation of falling, falling onto a surrounding, comforting presence. Gasping breathes from his savior, and the rapid heartbeat beating frantically in his ears. It was somehow soothing... he could just close his eyes and remember... a feeling, a presence from long ago...  
  
A smaller movement, and words. A question. He shook his head slightly and burrowed his nose stubbornly deeper into the strange cloth he was lying facedown in; he didn't understand.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
There was no time; the raging flames pursued Ken like a living thing. With one final burst of effort, the athlete surged forwards and onto a grassy hillside, breathing heavily and hurriedly; unsteady legs finally gave out and he collapsed onto the ground, just out of reach of the fires, cradling the nearly motionless form of the other boy in his arms. They were safe.  
  
And to think, he didn't even know this kid's name yet.  
  
He didn't even have the energy to chuckle at that, but slowly, very slowly, his strength returned, albeit slightly; he shifted a bit, a bit uncomfortable with the weight against his body, and muttered a low, "Are you alright?"  
  
It didn't seem like the kid understood him; that was all right, as long as the boy wasn't going to die on him just yet. He shifted and glanced down at the boy's side, examining the wound; it wasn't as bad as he'd thought; minor, even. He'd take a look at it later, the brown-haired youth decided, noticing the deepening breaths of the light-skinned youth.  
  
Ken lay there, not wanting to jolt the youth out of the light slumber he had so easily succumbed to, and stared up at the sky through the canvas of foliage above him, his aches seeming to blend away; there was a full moon out tonight, and the stars twinkled gently beside it's commanding presence. The temple towered over them, but not in an ominous way for once; instead, it looked almost breathtaking, with the midnight tapestry littered with glittering diamonds as its backdrop.  
  
The forest was quiet...  
  
-----  
  
Noise. Ken jerked up suddenly, a cry on his lips- only to snap his mouth shut as his eyes took in his surroundings. His all-too-familiar surroundings.  
  
He was back in his tent.  
  
How had he...?  
  
... Morning. It was morning. What had happened?  
  
*FLASH*  
  
Fire. Heat. Someone was hurt.  
  
Running. Heat. Collapse.  
  
The moon. The stars.  
  
The temple.  
  
*FLASH*  
  
His breath caught, and sweat beaded up on his forehead as he shut his eyes quickly, trying to cease the swirling picture in front of his vision. The athlete forced himself to breathe slowly, deeply, to fight the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. This was no time to overreact. Something seriously twisted was going on here, and he needed to figure out what, or at least *why*.   
  
So. Quick rehashing of events up till now: he had woken last night to a blazing fire, went out into it without telling or waking either of his companions- come to think of it, he hadn't even seen their tents out of the corner of his eye as he ran; odd-, saved that boy from before who had threatened him with a spear, and fallen asleep practically cuddling with him. And then-  
  
And then what?  
  
He tried to recall waking later on, maybe stumbling wearily back to his tent amidst the finally dying flames, or maybe someone dragging him back to his sleeping quarters- but there was nothing. Nothing. Just a jump in time for him, from the small hill to waking in his sleeping bag.  
  
Huh. Interesting, but no help to him at all.  
  
The back of his hand burned, where Ken remembered the embers blazing across his skin last night. He winced involuntarily, gaze jumping to that spot to check out the damage, eyes widening in mild shock at the sight.  
  
Nothing. No burn, anywhere; especially not where the pain was coming from. A phantom pain, from where a wound should have been? This whole thing was getting weirder by the moment, and he didn't like it one bit. He hated not knowing what was going on around him, he had always been like that; ever the curious child, always asking questions.  
  
The forest went suddenly and eerily silent.  
  
Oh, no. Not *again*, dammit! It always got quiet when something weirder than usual happened. Absently rubbing at the injured finger that still hadn't reduced it's level of pain, Ken stood, shaking the sleeping bag off of his slender form and pushing aside the flaps to his tent warily.  
  
Something was horribly wrong.  
  
-----  
  
"Ernesto?" the guide looked up at Ken from where he sat, perched on a large rock in front of a roaring campfire, and nodded slightly in greeting.  
  
"Señor Hidaka, good morning. Did you have a nice sleep?"  
  
Ken's blue-green gaze was darting hurriedly around the small clearing, searching for any signs of what he had seen happen with his very own eyes last night. There were none- no piles of ashes and soot, no stone platform stripped of the thin layer of greenery on its surface, no lingering, acrid smell of smoke. Nothing. He couldn't believe his eyes, and what his bewildered mind suggested to him as an excuse was too twisted to even consider at the moment.  
  
"Señor Hidaka?" the native's deep tones cut through his shock, and he turned back to face him, memory digging up what the man must be asking about.  
  
"Ah... yes, as well as can be expected, I suppose." He forced a grin, somewhat sheepishly, then turned and made a determined beeline for Yohji's tent. There was something the blonde wasn't telling him; there had to be! Why else would he have invited *him*, of all people? There had to be some ulterior motive.  
  
Throwing the flap back, Ken let brilliant sunshine burst into the shadowed area, and right onto Yohji's eyelids. The blonde groaned and sleepily threw an arm over his eyes, rolling over to escape the bright light. "'S too early. Go away..." he protested, voice muffled by sleep.  
  
"It's not early enough," Ken corrected, kicking at the lax form lightly and throwing the sleeping bag off from around his friend's body. "Get up, we have some things to talk about."  
  
-----  
  
"So what's this all about?" Yohji demanded when the two finally reached the top of the temple. Ken had been uncharacteristically quiet since forcefully waking the blonde up, refusing to answer any of his questions until they were up here, out of their guide's hearing range. The blonde agitatedly twirled a lock of hair in his twitching fingers. He'd kill for a cigarette right now, but he didn't want to set off Ken again; he didn't know what the hell was going on, but his friend looked like he could blow up at any given moment, for any given reason.  
  
And, now that he had a chance to maybe get some answers, Ken couldn't think of a single thing to start. *Was there a fire last night?* *Have you been having really messed up dreams lately?* *Are you sure you didn't see those weird, pale people before, because I've seen them twice now?*  
  
"There's something you aren't telling me," Yeah, real smooth, Hidaka.  
  
One pale eyebrow was raised at that. "What're you talking about, Ken?"  
  
"I mean *this*!" he gestured impatiently around the enclosed space of the temple top. "There's something weird going on here, Yohji, whether you know it or not. Those ghosts you and I laughed about me seeing two days ago? Well, I saw them again, last night. I *saved a boy from a fire* last night. A fire that there was no trace of this morning when I looked around, and I know it wasn't a dream. A fire that, according to *you*, now that I think about it, happened *two thousand years ago*!"  
  
Yohji was staring, wide-eyed, at him. He probably though Ken was crazy, but, now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop. And so he blundered ahead.  
  
"I don't know what's going on around here, but it's definitely *much* more than what you're telling me. Maybe more than you even know, but..." he trailed off, not knowing quite how to continue. This was all too weird for him.  
  
"There is... something." Yohji started at last, refusing to meet his friend's gaze. He felt responsible for whatever Ken was going through, imagined or not. "I didn't tell you because it didn't seem important at the time. It seems that there may be some truth to the native superstitions about this place. You see, this temple is unique in more than the fact that it was built by a people we have no knowledge of. The structure of it, the whole way it was built, suggests a use that was far different from the usual in this area, the human sacrifices of the Maya, Inca and Aztec. And the fact that it was built here seems to imply something along why the Maya built their Temple of the Sun where it was; it was some sort of sacred ground for them. I'm afraid that's all I know, Ken. It's one of the reasons I brought you, remember?" A typical, Yohji-grin.  
  
Ken was disappointed; he'd hoped to learn more than that. It seemed there was more to this assignment than anyone seemed to know. Just great. And what was he supposed to do until something, anything, screwed up and gave him some kind of clue to what was going on? Just wait around and hope he didn't get hurt? That fire had been too real to ignore.  
  
A sudden loud, high-pitched screech nearly burst his eardrums it was so close. He winced and looked instinctively towards the stone doorway, just in time to catch a flash of an amazing red-and-blue bird flitting past, almost like it had been spying on them; it seemed somehow familiar, like some of the other things around here.  
  
But that was ridiculous, of course. Maybe he'd once seen a picture in a brochure or something. That must be it. Putting that thought out of his mind, Ken smirked and glanced at Yohji, who was digging around in his back pockets, most likely for a cigarette if the brown-haired youth knew his friend. "So, guess we should get started, if we wanna figure out what the hell's going on, huh?"  
  
"Right."  
  
-----  
  
The day had been a total waste; Ken hadn't even *begun* to decode the hieroglyphs decorating almost every inch of the enclosed space, and he had no idea where to start. Unlike some ancient civilizations, these people had actual *writing*, not just pictographs. And, to top it all off and make Ken even more agitated than he already was, his finger hurt worse than ever, as if it was reacting to something in the air around him. For all that had happened recently, he wouldn't doubt it.  
  
Taking a long, satisfying drink from his bottle of water, he stood, absently wiping the sweat from his brow, and turned to face Yohji's back. "You think we should call it a day?"  
  
"Yeah." The blonde stood from where he had been kneeling and lightly wiping dirt from the wall with a small brush, grinning a tired grin and absently putting out his cigarette with his fingers. "Working this late in the day is not my style." He joked, noticing that the sun was already sinking behind the treetops. Ken laughed at that, brushing sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes.  
  
"So, no supernatural visions today?" Yohji asked him lightly as the two stepped out from the small space and made their tentative way down the wide steps of the pyramid. The brown-haired athlete grinned at that, for once feeling relaxed and resourceful.  
  
"Nope. Not today." He announced, very much relieved. There was only so much stress a person could take in a short time. Ken smiled and stepped down onto another part of a step that wasn't completely crumbling, glancing back to make sure Yohji was doing the same.  
  
Neither of them noticed how the too-green foliage seemed to be closing behind them as they descended, as if the forest was protective of its resident structures.  
  
A series of harsh cries followed them down, and Ken paused, glancing around nervously and catching sight of the bird from before. It was watching them both with wise eyes and a funny little smirk on its face- at least that was what it seemed like to the athlete. He didn't like the looks of that bird, not one bit. It reminded him of something, of a mocking grin from before, framed by green-black hair. The brown-haired youth shivered and urged Yohji on faster, using his ever-growing hunger as an excuse  
  
Ken had a feeling that something was about to happen, and he was right.  
  
He hated when he was right.  
  
*****  
  
Mm. Next chapter will have some KenxOmi-ness. ^.^ And maybe some AyaxYohji-ness to boot. Has anyone begun to figure out what is happening, even the tiniest bit? And what is it that Ken is sensing around him? Find out next time, in the next episode of: DigiMon, Digital Monsters- er, I mean, Forbidden Empire. ^.^ Till then:  
  
Sayonara and Rekka Shinen,  
Nozomi 


	5. Chapter 4

****

Forbidden Empire   
_Chapter Four_

The crackling of flames, in front of them. But this- this was all right, this was fine. This was a controlled flame. Fire held in virtually unbreakable confines.

Vaguely disturbing nonetheless, Ken decided, not glancing over at either of his companions. Fire was fire, whether controlled or otherwise.

No, that was wrong, somehow. Nothing this wild could be totally controlled, caged in. It was only waiting, biding its time, like everything else in this damned place.

His finger throbbed, more painful each and every consecutive moment, it seemed. It wasn't healing. Nothing was. Everything was broken, forgotten, abused.

Used.

A shuddering breath, and he stood on slightly shaky legs. He had to get away from that light. It was burning him, from the inside. He couldn't stand it any longer. His nerves fairly twitched with the need to move, to pace; he was never comfortable staying still when he was worked up.

"Ken?"

He winced slightly at the summons from Yohji, turning quickly so his back was to them and the campfire. "I... need some air." What was wrong with him?

He could feel the grin on Yohji's face, even if he couldn't actually see it. "Well, don't take too long. Wouldn't want you to be kidnapped by the bogeyman, hm?" A light, teasing tone, but it shook him nonetheless. Everything seemed wrong somehow, contorted; twisted until nothing and yet everything made sense.

He found a trail that wound a meandering way through the forest, passing the crumbling base of the temple before twisting away again. The way was ill-kept, yet less so since they had come these past days- it was their common way to a little pond area that they used to wash themselves in, one small strip of water that held no ill-mannered surprises beneath it's mirrored depths.

A hiss and a splash; a pair of slit amber eyes gazed at him coolly from across the pond. The jaguar kept on calmly drinking, pink tongue lapping at the water's surface methodically even as those eyes did not stray from Ken's face. The athlete swallowed roughly and stood stock-still, trying not to draw any more attention unto himself than he already had.

Stupid. Ken cursed himself, albeit silently. He should have been on the lookout for this; it wasn't anything new to him, after all, not after days spent in this dangerously beautiful, exotic place.

Those cool, calculating eyes blinked once, slowly- and he jerked upright. A sense of urgency- of things yet to come yet fated to be- gripped him, and he turned, suddenly unheeding of the danger this great cat could cause to his person. A stunning red-and-blue bird landed on a branch overhanging the jaguar and let out a condescending screech of protest, but he ignored it. The sound was too much like a jealous scorn to scare him.

He snorted, barely resisting the urge to visibly sneer at his antics of the past few hours, and something inside of him loosened just the tiniest bit at the feel of the golden eyes on his retreating form. What the hell had gotten into him, anyway? Scared of _fire_, of all things. Never mind the strangely alluring voice in the back of his mind that told him nothing was wrong, nothing was amiss- throbbing in time to the pulse in his injured finger.

Feh. Injured finger, indeed. If it was broken, maybe; but not just the scratch that it was.

Still, something felt vaguely _wrong _about all of this, and it was very unsettling- like he was being pulled in two directions at one time, all of a sudden. And then there was the whole situation in general; it was unusual for Yohji to ask Ken to get involved in the blonde's work in the first place, and, the one time Ken actually decided to comply, something weird began to happen. As it is said, once is chance, twice is coincidence. So what would thrice be?

He had a feeling he was going to find out.

And there it was again- the stupid, twice be-damned feeling that always got him into so much trouble.

Crap.

-----

Something light and sort of ticklish was running across his face, making him scrunch up his nose just the tiniest bit as he drifted into wakefulness from a dream that did not want to relinquish it's overly-secure hold on him. Ken's breath caught and the movement instantly stilled, as if acutely aware that he had awakened, even as blue-green eyes blinked open hesitantly, nervous at what he might find in the darkness.

A pair of deep, blue eyes stared curiously back at him, set in a face almost too small for those eyes.

"_What the hell?!_" With a startled yelp of surprise he jerked bolt upright, heart racing and sweat-soaked bangs hanging stubbornly into his eyes. The brown-haired youth's breath came in sharp gasps, and a warm but firm hand clapped swiftly over his slightly open mouth, tight but not uncomfortable. Something of shock, a tingling feeling, passed from that hand into Ken, disorienting him for the slightest moment.

In the darkness of night, Ken's adjusting eyes located the form that the hand belonged to, sitting silently and almost invisibly at the foot of his sleeping bag. Slight body, evenly muscled form, planed chest; yep, it was definitely that boy from before, the one that seemed so much like a dream all of a sudden. But how had he-?

The hand loosened its grip, and Ken's mouth immediately opened to mutter a half-strangled exclamation.

"_Wha-?_"

Eyes narrowing slightly, the boy brought one slender digit to his own lips in the universal gesture for 'quiet', before muttering something almost inaudible in that strange, ancient-sounding dialect he used, as that blue gaze raked over Ken's face and exposed upper body lightning-fast, seeming to consider something. A quick, pink tongue darted out to wet dry lips and, in a sudden decisive movement, the boy placed one hand firmly over Ken's breastbone and applied a gentle pressure, silently urging the athlete to lie back down. Ken wasn't sure he was ready to comply with this kid's silent demand, though.

"Wait, what are you-"

A gentle but unyielding finger was placed against the soccer player's lips, silencing him again, as that same force was used to lower his body back to the ground. This time he complied, figuring the kid could have already hurt him if that was what he had indeed intended to do, blue-green eyes sliding shut as if by their own will as the finger was removed from his lips. He felt suddenly so lethargic... 

Ken's vaguely protesting groan was met only by a short, sweet-sounding laugh from the strangely light-skinned boy, before nimble fingers deftly slid the shirt he used for sleeping in down his shoulders. [1] This was… vaguely disturbing, but he couldn't seem to figure out why…

His finger throbbed painfully, almost-- but not quite-- wrenching him from his pleasant almost-dream, before dying down to almost nothing-- the least amount of pain from it he'd had for awhile. 

The first brushing contact of skin against skin caused his muscles to bunch and jump involuntarily, but soon enough he relaxed to the tentative touches, breathing evening out almost into the category of sleep. There was something vaguely odd about all of this, but he supposed he could figure it out once this kid was done playing his games; after all, the boy obviously wanted something from him, otherwise he wouldn't have come to him in the middle of the night. Although he couldn't understand what exactly the kid thought he was doing...

Soon enough those touches were gone, jumping to his forehead for a few light, brushing moments, before even that was finished. At that, Ken's eyelids tentatively inched open, but they hadn't gotten far when a pair of warm, soft lips brushed against his own in a foreign, tentative-- ...strangely compelling? -- caress, and his eyes snapped open fully in shock and surprise. The gasp torn from his throat was muffled as a slick tongue ran along his bottom lip for an instant, just breaching the warm cavern of his mouth before jumping back just as quickly, the weight on Ken's body disappearing as well. The brown-haired youth's body was instantly and painfully aware of the loss of the other boy's warmth, and he instinctively pressed upwards, grasping for that lost presence, before he realized just what he was doing, and he cursed.

Ken scrubbed furiously at his watering eyes with the back of his hand, neck muscles twitching uncontrollably. "What the hell?!" What the hell was wrong with him? But this kid was strangely alluring all of a sudden... And he wasn't so much of a kid as he looked on first glance, after all...

Damn it.

"I'm sorry." A muted apology. Ken's blue-green darted instantly to the foot of his sleeping bag, where the light-haired boy perched rather awkwardly, a tint of blush dusting across his pale features. "I shouldn't have done that. It would have been easier just to have sealed a rune or two more, but it also wouldn't have been as effective nor as fast, and..." the boy trailed off at Ken's intense, penetrating stare, which was bordering on being rude. He shifted nervously, slim fingers worrying at the fringe of his strangely rustic clothing.

"What wouldn't have been as strong?" the brown-haired athlete asked at last, when it became obvious that his visitor wasn't going to continue anytime soon with a bit of goading. _This is awkward..._

That wide, ocean-deep gaze turned to look curiously at his shadowed form. "Why, the translation spell, of course. Didn't you notice that we can speak and understand each other now?"

Oh. So _that _was what had felt somehow wrong with this situation just now. He should have known, but meetings with mysteriously pale jungle-boys weren't exactly in his job description, let alone his capacity to act and react very well at the moment.

"Yeah, that. Of course," his sheepish grin was lost in the dark, or so he thought.

"You are very strange, for a human," the boy stared curiously at him a bit longer. "You can't even recognize one of the most basic of magic, yet you've obviously discovered some spell for lasting life."

And _that _floored Ken.

"_Lasting life_?!" he choked, sputtered, and practically squeaked-- then thanked whatever gods were watching over him that he _hadn't _done that last bit, for it would have made him look _most_ undignified.

Golden-blonde brows furrowed at his incredulous look. "But... I thought... You _are_ the one from before, aren't you? You _have_ to be, you're even wearing the same clothing as when you... saved me..." he trailed off, looking confused and- cutely, Ken noted to himself- nonplussed.

"Um..."

"And humans don't live that long. You don't look any different from then, and I would be able to tell if you were one of Us," there was an inherent emphasis in that last phrase that set Ken's mind in motion, but he did not comment. "So you couldn't _possibly_ live as long as you seemingly have unless you are one of those rare humans who have discovered the inherent secrets of magic."

"Magic?" Well, damn. Suddenly he couldn't do anything but repeat what was being said. It wasn't exactly a way to make himself look intelligent.

The boy nodded. "Of course. The magic of the Ancients. Like me," he shrugged. "So, human-"

"The name's Ken. Ken Hidaka," _Finally!_ He exulted. He had said something mildly intelligent for once in this conversation, which was rather hard to do, what with his mind strangely muddled in this boy's presence.

The boy paused, giving him a strange look- almost as if he could read the athlete's thoughts- before his face broke out into a winning smile. "Ken. So, how are you using such strange magic?"

And now for the million-dollar question. How _was_ any of this happening in the first place?

He wasn't sure; he really had no idea. Ken opened his mouth to say just that-

-and was interrupted by a nearly inaudible yelp of surprise, followed by a horrible crashing noise. He frowned and stood up, pushing past the boy and sprinting out of the tent, his visitor close on his heels.

Yohji's tent had collapsed, air billowing out from under it as the fabric fell gently to the ground. Ken could see a form- or was it two?- struggling to find a way out of the fabric entrapment, and could vaguely hear explicit curses in a half-dozen different languages, trailing off as willowy hands found the flaps and pushed them back, crawling out awkwardly on hands and knees.

"The _hell_?!" Yohji muttered, looking utterly confused- a look that didn't often grace the blonde's face. He groaned and shifted to sit cross-legged on the ground, glare fixed firmly at the form still moving inside _his_ tent and fingers twitching. "... I need a cigarette."

"Yohji?" What in the world-?

The blonde man looked up at him, half-hearted smirk lighting his features as his jade eyes settled upon the boy behind Ken. "Ah, Kenken. Who's your friend? Did he molest you too?"

"Aya-kun!" The blue-eyed boy looked horrified at the implication.

"I did not," came a deep voice from- Ken supposed- inside the tent. If it had been the tent itself talking, that would have been freaky, though not any more than what seemed usual around here. Thankfully, it wasn't the tent.

Another man stepped out from the tent, blood-red hair ruffled a bit, violet eyes locked on Yohji as he spoke. Ken recognized him from before, at the temple mount.

Yohji gazed at the red-haired man dryly, looking none too put out by the purple glare directed at him. "Then what, exactly, would you call it? And what were you doing in my tent, anyway?"

The other didn't deign to reply, just gave the blonde a look that clearly stated, _'shouldn't it be obvious?'_. Ken decided that maybe he didn't really want to know what this guy wanted with Yohji.

"Aya-kun! What happened?"

"I was setting the translation spell. He woke and kicked the supporting pole loose."

"It was an _accident_," the blonde huffed. "You make it sound like I did it on purpose."

Oh. So _that's_ how the blonde's tent had collapsed. Then- 'translation spell'? Hadn't that kid said the same thing about- against his will, Ken's face flushed. If this 'Aya' was anything like his friend, he could understand why waking up to the end of _that_ particular spell would put Yohji into such a mood.

His finger gave a small twinge, and Ken winced, sticking it into his mouth on impulse. Damned stupid sore finger. Hey, maybe if this kid actually _did _have magic, like he claimed, he could heal it or something...

"We need to go now."

Ken blinked and found himself staring straight into the sea-blue eyes of the kid, who was smiling at him again. One light-skinned arm was extended to point at the lightening horizon, indicating the sunrise.

"I told Qantaqa I'd be back by morn rise."

Not '_we_', but '_I_', Ken noted, feeling a twinge of something unfamiliar in his chest. And who was this '_Qantaqa_', anyway? If she was who he thought she was- Ken grimaced at the memory of dark hair and silver-flecked eyes.

"We will return soon," the boy continued after a moment, turning to glance at his companion. "Aya-kun."

"Yes." The taller one nodded and turned, watching the boy as he turned and followed after. Just before they reached the edge of the clearing, the boy turned, flashing Ken a winning smile.

"When we return, I'll want to know about you," he promised, clear blue eyes shining. Ken blinked.

"... Hey! Hey, wait- what's your name?"

"Ma-" The blonde boy paused, sparing a swift glance at Aya, a thoughtful look upon his face for a moment. "Omi. You can call me Omi." He said at last, his bright smile growing wider as he swept a bow in Ken and Yohji's direction. "Until we meet again, Ken Hidaka."

And they were gone.

-----

[1] No, he's not doing what you think he is, hentai! ^.^ Well... not yet, anyway... *sweatdrop*

Threnody: Something's weird about his finger, isn't there?

Nozomi: You just NOW figured that out?

Threnody: -.- So what is it? And what's with all the animals? And, most of all, _why was he acting OOC, damnit?!_

Nozomi: *evil grin* *sing-song voice* You'll see…

C&C always appreciated, na no da!


End file.
